(no subject)
Fic #05/50 for my fanfic50 table
Prompt: 043. Spirit
Title: Wish Me Away
Fandom: Queer as Folk (US)
Characters: Brian/Justin
Timeframe: post-513
Genre: Angst, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Warning: major character death (highlight to see)
Word Count: ~700
Summary: Justin isn’t quite ready yet, but he’s getting there.
Disclaimer: Cowlip owns, I don't.
Notes: Title stolen from the cornybutprettyshuddup song What If You by Joshua Radin. :)
Wish Me Away
by sakesushimaki
“No, Brian, I will not be at Debbie’s tonight. I told you I’ve got work to do.”
“Cute, Sunshine,” Brian mocks.
Justin flashes a quick glare to the doorway. He hates how Brian leans casually against the frame. The constant observation is irritating.
He washes his hands a second time and then decides to snitch a bit of Brian’s expensive eye cream.
The puffiness doesn’t become him.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Please, like you can’t spare a dab of cream. Come off it,” Justin snaps as he shuts off the light and brushes past Brian.
“You know what I mean.”
Justin doesn’t know.
He grabs his bag and is out the door before Brian can say anything else.
+
When he gets home, the newspaper lies in the middle of the floor, opened.
“Brian?” Justin bends down, picks the paper up and throws it into the trash. He left his cell phone in the morning and goes to look what he missed. Two new voice mails from Debbie, one from Michael, one from Ted, two from Daphne.
He deletes them without checking.
“You don’t even want to check?” Brian comes out of the bathroom.
“No. I know what they’re gonna say anyway.” He gets a bottle of water from the fridge. “Why are you even here? It’s Wednesday, why aren’t you at Woody’s?”
“You know why I’m here, Justin,” Brian says, all placating and so fucking calm. “Talk at least to Ted. He has to-”
“Why don’t you talk to him?”
Brian waits till Justin looks at him. “I have. He knows what to do. You just need to-”
“You hungry?”
“Justin.”
“Chinese or Thai?”
“Justin, don’t be an idiot.”
“Chinese it is.”
They watch mind-numbingly dumb TV for the rest of the night and Justin ends up throwing away nearly half of the food he ordered.
+
The next night, Justin decides to hit Babylon. It’s been a while.
The looks he gets from everywhere make his skin crawl, and he drags the next best guy into the backroom.
It’s close to 3 am when get gets back to the loft.
The newspaper lies on the floor again, opened to the same page as yesterday.
“Brian, would you mind picking up your shit once in a while?” Justin grabs the paper and throws it in the trash. He walks up into the bedroom and falls down on the bed. “Brian?”
Brian appears at the foot of the bed. “So, when are you going back to New York?”
Justin sighs. “Shut up and come fuck me.”
The mattress barely dips as Brian crawls into bed. Justin wonders why the fuck he’s still wearing his suit.
“I’m worried about you.”
Justin huffs in exasperation. “God, will you leave it be already? You’re pissing me off.”
“Well, you’re pissing me off, too,” Brian says. “You’re better than this, Justin.”
But he’s not. He’s really not.
Justin closes his eyes. His throat closes up in the way that makes it hard to swallow. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
The wetness spills from beneath Justin’s lids before he can stop it. How he still has fluid left he doesn’t know.
He wonders if the dull ache will ever stop being the substance of his days.
Brian scoots closer, wraps Justin in his arms.
Justin clings and presses his face into Brian’s neck.
“It’s okay. You can let go.”
Justin knows that he has to.
He falls asleep, but the cold never leaves.
+
In the morning, Brian’s side of the bed is empty.
Justin gets up slowly, pads into the kitchen, switches on the coffee maker.
He feels the difference in every pore.
The paper lies on the counter this time, the opened page is the same.
Justin closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and picks it up. Sitting down at the dining table, he already knows what he’s going to read.
He opens his eyes, and faces reality.
November 27
Brian Kinney, founder and CEO of the Pittsburgh-based advertising agency Kinnetik, dies at 39 in a multiple car pile-up on Pennsylvania Turnpike. He leaves the majority of his assets, including his successful business, to his partner, artist Justin Taylor. The pile-up was caused…
+
Justin has finally exhausted all tears a day later.
He calls his agent, makes arrangements to meet with Ted. He wants to go see Debbie, Michael, Daphne, his mom. He has to get it together - one day at a time.
Calling to give Debbie a quick heads-up, Justin starts getting dressed.
He slips into Brian’s leather jacket and closes the door behind him.
Prompt: 043. Spirit
Title: Wish Me Away
Fandom: Queer as Folk (US)
Characters: Brian/Justin
Timeframe: post-513
Genre: Angst, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Warning: major character death (highlight to see)
Word Count: ~700
Summary: Justin isn’t quite ready yet, but he’s getting there.
Disclaimer: Cowlip owns, I don't.
Notes: Title stolen from the cornybutprettyshuddup song What If You by Joshua Radin. :)
Wish Me Away
by sakesushimaki
“No, Brian, I will not be at Debbie’s tonight. I told you I’ve got work to do.”
“Cute, Sunshine,” Brian mocks.
Justin flashes a quick glare to the doorway. He hates how Brian leans casually against the frame. The constant observation is irritating.
He washes his hands a second time and then decides to snitch a bit of Brian’s expensive eye cream.
The puffiness doesn’t become him.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Please, like you can’t spare a dab of cream. Come off it,” Justin snaps as he shuts off the light and brushes past Brian.
“You know what I mean.”
Justin doesn’t know.
He grabs his bag and is out the door before Brian can say anything else.
+
When he gets home, the newspaper lies in the middle of the floor, opened.
“Brian?” Justin bends down, picks the paper up and throws it into the trash. He left his cell phone in the morning and goes to look what he missed. Two new voice mails from Debbie, one from Michael, one from Ted, two from Daphne.
He deletes them without checking.
“You don’t even want to check?” Brian comes out of the bathroom.
“No. I know what they’re gonna say anyway.” He gets a bottle of water from the fridge. “Why are you even here? It’s Wednesday, why aren’t you at Woody’s?”
“You know why I’m here, Justin,” Brian says, all placating and so fucking calm. “Talk at least to Ted. He has to-”
“Why don’t you talk to him?”
Brian waits till Justin looks at him. “I have. He knows what to do. You just need to-”
“You hungry?”
“Justin.”
“Chinese or Thai?”
“Justin, don’t be an idiot.”
“Chinese it is.”
They watch mind-numbingly dumb TV for the rest of the night and Justin ends up throwing away nearly half of the food he ordered.
+
The next night, Justin decides to hit Babylon. It’s been a while.
The looks he gets from everywhere make his skin crawl, and he drags the next best guy into the backroom.
It’s close to 3 am when get gets back to the loft.
The newspaper lies on the floor again, opened to the same page as yesterday.
“Brian, would you mind picking up your shit once in a while?” Justin grabs the paper and throws it in the trash. He walks up into the bedroom and falls down on the bed. “Brian?”
Brian appears at the foot of the bed. “So, when are you going back to New York?”
Justin sighs. “Shut up and come fuck me.”
The mattress barely dips as Brian crawls into bed. Justin wonders why the fuck he’s still wearing his suit.
“I’m worried about you.”
Justin huffs in exasperation. “God, will you leave it be already? You’re pissing me off.”
“Well, you’re pissing me off, too,” Brian says. “You’re better than this, Justin.”
But he’s not. He’s really not.
Justin closes his eyes. His throat closes up in the way that makes it hard to swallow. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
The wetness spills from beneath Justin’s lids before he can stop it. How he still has fluid left he doesn’t know.
He wonders if the dull ache will ever stop being the substance of his days.
Brian scoots closer, wraps Justin in his arms.
Justin clings and presses his face into Brian’s neck.
“It’s okay. You can let go.”
Justin knows that he has to.
He falls asleep, but the cold never leaves.
+
In the morning, Brian’s side of the bed is empty.
Justin gets up slowly, pads into the kitchen, switches on the coffee maker.
He feels the difference in every pore.
The paper lies on the counter this time, the opened page is the same.
Justin closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and picks it up. Sitting down at the dining table, he already knows what he’s going to read.
He opens his eyes, and faces reality.
November 27
Brian Kinney, founder and CEO of the Pittsburgh-based advertising agency Kinnetik, dies at 39 in a multiple car pile-up on Pennsylvania Turnpike. He leaves the majority of his assets, including his successful business, to his partner, artist Justin Taylor. The pile-up was caused…
+
Justin has finally exhausted all tears a day later.
He calls his agent, makes arrangements to meet with Ted. He wants to go see Debbie, Michael, Daphne, his mom. He has to get it together - one day at a time.
Calling to give Debbie a quick heads-up, Justin starts getting dressed.
He slips into Brian’s leather jacket and closes the door behind him.